


I Lie Here Thinking of You

by AnnaofAza



Series: When We Two Parted [2]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Finding Harry Hart, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Harry Hart Lives, M/M, Please read the first part of the series, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4642089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Eggsy,” Roxy says, voice calm but curious, “why haven’t you told me that you found Harry?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Lie Here Thinking of You

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from [this poem.](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/241066)
> 
> Technically a sequel to the first part, and let me tell you, the third and final one will be much longer than this (we're talking chapters!).

The first sound Eggsy hears is beeping from the nightstand. The tiny light on his glasses are blinking green. He rolls over and pulls the covers over his head, noticing the stiffness over his legs. He must have fallen asleep in his suit again.

Eggsy never liked waking up early. Now, he simply just doesn’t want to.

For the first year, opening his eyes and breathing in the scent of old wallpaper and cologne made the tears rise and spill over his cheeks. His shoulders would shake, and he’d turn over so he could muffle his sobs into his pillow as the emptiness of the house sinks into his bones.

It’s gotten less painful over the years. Instead of being a hot poker pressed against his chest, it’s a small pile of embers, burning away the coal underneath. The sensation there no longer lays him flat on his back, but it’s enough to leave a constant ache.

The glasses beep again. Sunlight filters in through the slightly-opened blinds. There’s a fullness in his bladder.

He needs to get up.

Eggsy rolls to his right, lets his feet touch and sink into the soft carpet, and drags himself to the bathroom.

He’s been dreaming again, ever since he saw Harry outside that church. He imagines different possibilities of their prior conversation, words that are lost to him when he wakes up. Eggsy knows he couldn’t have said anything else—Harry would be counted as a civilian after these years, and no matter what hints—some explicit—were dropped, Harry had only stared at him in polite bemusement. Before he wakes up, the weight of what Eggsy wanted to say always lies on his tongue.

“Harry,” he now says, out loud, but doesn’t continue.

The beeping becomes more constant. Merlin must be getting impatient.

Eggsy sighs, and goes over to the nightstand and slips on the glasses.

Another day to get through.

* * *

_Eggsy opens his eyes to a white ceiling, and the familiar figures of Merlin and Roxy. A thin wool blanket had been tossed over his body in the night, and his bare feet stick out below, exposed to the slight chill. He’s not sure how long he’s been sleeping, but judging by Roxy’s new suit and Merlin’s different color sweater, it’s definitely past morning._

_His whole body seems weighted by stones, tethered to the flimsy airplane cot. He can still feel the blood running over his right eye, tracing his cheek, dripping onto the ground. The twinge in his head has travelled to his chest, and the sharp pulse makes him groan._

_“Easy,” Merlin says, at the same time Roxy moves to help him up. She even rolls the pillow as a flimsy seat, so Eggsy could see into their faces._

_Both are sympathetic, Roxy’s even more so._

_“Eggsy, you’ve been down for the count. You really took a beating last night.” Eggsy is now aware that the ache in his chest was all over his body. Bullets. Bruises. Slices from Gazelle’s legs. They sting, but numbly, as if he’d been given a low dose of morphine. “But you need to get up. There are long days ahead of us.”_

_“Harry…” Eggsy wets his throat, swallowing spit. “Have you found him?”_

_Merlin shakes his head. “No, lad,” he murmured gloomily. “We’re still scanning the morgues in Kentucky—”_

_“The hospitals,” Eggsy interrupts, hoarsely._

_Roxy kneels and takes both of his hands. “He got shot in the head, Eggsy. I saw the footage. It’s…probably not likely that he survived.”_

_Suddenly, her soft voice, her concerned eyes, and pin-perfect appearance make his stomach turn. He tries to pull away, but his friend’s grip is firm, squeezing. “No. Harry isn’t dead. I need to see his body myself.”_

_“Eggsy, we can’t find a body,” Merlin patiently replies._

_“It’s all in the movies and shit.” He can hear himself talking louder and louder, voice filling the narrow space, causing both of the figures next to him to flinch. But Eggsy keeps going, even as the pounding in his head and chest intensifies. “No body, no death—Harry is out there, somewhere—we just need to—”_

_Merlin claps one hand on Eggsy’s shoulder. Roxy is still holding Eggsy’s hands in hers, and the connection makes Eggsy made to move away, move into himself, so he could no longer feel the physical touch—the physical sense of contact, no, of this world. The injuries are beginning to flare, combining with the agony trembling in his chest, and it hurts._

_“Eggsy,” Merlin almost whispers. “We’ll search for him, don’t you worry, but it’s very possible…there are so many bodies from V-Day, lad—we might not find anything. We can get in contact with the local police force, even the FBI if necessary, but it’s chaos in the world. We lost most of our agents. We might have to pool all our limited resources into dealing with the aftershocks.” His voice trembles, Scottish accent blurring his vowels. “This is very hard for me, too.”_

_Eggsy remembers hearing about the explosion, sneaking into the hospital ward, and opening the door to see Harry in a hospital bed, hooked up to a breathing tube and multiple IVs with his eyes closed. His hair was limp and unwashed across his slackened face. There was almost no resemblance of the man who fought with ferocity and brutal grace in the pub, looking unstoppable and untouchable._

_‘Is he going to be all right?’ Eggsy had asked, voice shakier than he’d intended it to be._

_Merlin turned to him and spoke to him, frankly but not unkindly. ‘We need to have patience, Eggsy. But there is hope. Okay?’ Eggsy had vaguely noticed an older man—someone he’d later realized was Arthur—standing in the back. His eyes were watching the entire scene intently in front of him._

_But what held Eggsy’s attention was Harry, helpless and limp and just_ lying _there. There was wetness on Eggsy’s eyelashes as he blinked, trying to remain eye contact with Merlin._

_Continuing, the other man firmly—yet more gently than Eggsy had ever heard him—said, ‘If I were you, I’d concentrate on your training. Make it through the test. Make him proud.’_

_“…Eggsy,” Roxy’s voice says, now high-pitched in worry. “Eggsy, we’re not giving up—”_

_But Eggsy begins to gasp, throwing one elbow over his mouth as he bent over the bed, sobbing for the first time since Harry got shot._

* * *

 Now, Eggsy strolls out of the car with his suit impeccable, swinging his umbrella. His face is baby-smooth, and his glasses are perched rigidly over his nose. When he passes by people on the sidewalk, Eggsy doesn’t wave or nod or smile. If he were walking in his own neighborhood, everyone would be scoffing _typical posh bastard, stiffer than the pole jammed up his arse._

His hair is still damp from the morning’s shower, neatly combed. His shoes are tightly-tied, as is his tie, and he can barely smell the cheap soap scent from his skin. His fingers had gone over the bottle of Harry’s cologne without a thought. As sentimental as Eggsy is, living in his house and wearing his robe at night, some things simply still belong to Harry.

He opens the door of Kingsman’s shop, and finds Roxy standing practically behind the door. She has her glasses clutched in her hand, her umbrella in another. The person usually working the front desk is noticeably absent.

“Eggsy,” she says, voice calm but curious, “why haven’t you told me that you found Harry?”

He startles. “How do you—”

“We’re _friends,_ Eggsy,” she scolds. “You’ve been more distracted lately, and your shooting skills have dropped by five percent, but your training time has increased by forty. You almost fell off the balance beam yesterday. And I saw your Google search history. _Kentucky._ All over the place—with a university and a _professor’s_ page.”

Eggsy opens his mouth to explain, but his friend raises her index finger, silencing him.

She then pauses, before continuing in a breathless tone: “You haven’t got your medal. I’ve noticed for quite some time, but I’ve never asked—until someone in the tech department couldn’t get a hold of you and asked me to tell you that Harry Hart just dialed the Kingsman number.” 

* * *

  _Eggsy’s standing in the hot Kentucky sun, waiting. He wants to shuck the jacket off, but he doesn’t dare take his eyes off the door. It will open soon._

_Harry appears, eyes still shell-shocked and hair in a disarray, hands trembling._

_His shoes crunch against the asphalt. His breathing is heavy with exertion and the horror threatening to take over his body. But when he looks at Eggsy, his face is deceptively calm._

_The guns point at Harry, surrounding him. There’s nowhere for him to go. His eyes fixate on the man in front of him, knowing he’s never killed anyone before with his own hands. Perhaps he could make it, if he manages to distract his opponent first._

_But Eggsy smiles, lifts the gun, aims._

_“This ain’t that kind a movie, bruv,” he sneers, and shoots Harry in the head._

* * *

 Merlin’s perfectly furious when he finds out, and that’s because the whole tech department knew all about it before himself. He storms up to them while Eggsy’s trying to negotiate a plane ride to America with one of the pilots. Roxy tries to warn him with subtle arm taps, but Eggsy’s so engrossed that he doesn’t notice until the man’s hand slams firmly onto his shoulder and whirls him around.

“You didn’t think it fit to tell me that my best friend is now _alive_?”

Eggsy quickly relates the story in under five minutes, terrified that Merlin’s hand would inch up to his neck and strangle him. The pilot is standing nearby, eyes round, and he keeps glancing at exit routes. Roxy only crosses her arms, listening to the story she’s already heard already.

“Fuck,” Merlin finally intones, head in his hands. _“Fuck.”_ Then he grows serious. “What do you know? Does he remember anything?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Eggsy says, frustrated. “He called earlier—I gave him the medal—but all he got was that stupid _customer satisfaction_ bullshit. I need him, Merlin. After all these years…” he shakes his head. “And I can hardly explain all this over a phone call, yeah?”

“I don’t even know if you can tell him _anything_ until you’re certain he’s remembered everything.” At Eggsy’s exasperated look, Merlin throws up his hands. “It’s Kingsman protocol, Eggsy!”

“Right, you’re Arthur; you got to set an example, I know,” Eggsy says impatiently.

“You’re lucky I found out you’re practically _stealing_ a plane right now,” the other man seethes.

Roxy points out, “You technically are, Eggsy; I told you we ought to file paperwork.”

“I was going to submit it!” At the two disbelieving looks, Eggsy mutters, “On the plane.” His voice raises. “To be fair, I was going to pilot one myself, but after the Argentina incident—”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t take _complete_ leave of your senses, then.” Merlin sighs, and pulls out his tablet, bringing up a document and points to a line at the bottom. “Just sign here, and I’ll approve it, right now—on one condition.”

Eggsy, already reaching for it, nods immediately.

“Bring him home, Eggsy.”

“Of course,” he promises, and signs. 

* * *

  _"You all right?” Roxy asks._

_Eggsy forces himself to grin. “Of course. I feel that I already know the surprise, though.”_

_His friend’s eyebrows raise, her smile mischievous. “Oh?”_

_“They’re going to instate me as Arthur, since I killed the last one.” Eggsy grins at Roxy’s brief, exasperated shake of her head. “It makes sense! Doesn’t that mean I’m the strongest warrior and all?”_

_Roxy smacks him in the shoulder. “This isn’t Dothraki society! Honestly, Eggsy.” She rolls her eyes, moving her leg slowly forward, arms raising with fists clenched. “And you might want to rethink that boast.”_

_Before they can start wrestling right there in the hallway, when Merlin’s voice interrupts them. “ Children. Five minutes. Get ready to enter the room on my signal.” _

_“Merlin’s really one for dramatics, hm?” Roxy smirks, but points to the double doors at the end of the hall. “If we stand really close, we might be able to eavesdrop a little.”_

_“That’s a spy for you,” Eggsy jokes, clapping her on the back. “Let’s go.” But as they walk down the hallway, Eggsy continues, “If I were Arthur, though, I’d abolish that stupid dog test. What’s it supposed to teach you? To follow orders blindly? To kill for the greater good? To kill the ones that you love?”_

_His voice chokes somewhere near the end, and Roxy lays a hand on his shoulder. To his relief, she doesn’t say anything, although she knows about the nightmares._

_The doors open, revealing the Round Table—which, isn’t really round; something that Eggsy will drop in the complaints box later on—and Merlin’s voice at the head, announcing, “…But at the forefront were our two newest recruits, and they both played an enormous part in saving the world from Richmond Valentine. One was Lancelot, who passed all her trials, and although the other was not a formal Kingsman, he proved himself as one that day. We see these young faces as part of a new era of Kingsman. Lancelot, bring your friend forward.”_

_Roxy links arms with Eggsy, who stares down at the familiar glass decanter filled with amber liquid along with two cups. Merlin gestures for him to take one, and with trembling fingers, Eggsy does, handing a drink first to Roxy, then himself. His chest aches. His palm slips against the smooth glass, and he quickly puts a hand underneath the bottom to save it from falling and shattering against the ground._

_His eyes move to Merlin, and directly at the wall adjacent, is a new portrait._

_Harry Hart stares back, grimly, holding his umbrella. The detail is perfect, from his Kingsman suit to his coiffed hair. Every piece of him exudes dignity and grace, and the eyes behind familiar glasses are warm and kind. To the side are other faces, ones the old Arthur said were former Kingsman._

_Dead Kingsman._

_“Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin, you have been voted as a new knight of the Round Table. Do you accept?”_

_His throat is tight, but he forces the words out: “I do.”_

_“Then welcome. Let us all raise a glass to our newest recruit: to Galahad.” Merlin says, and around the table, the other agents drink, echoing the name like a funeral dirge._  

* * *

As much as Merlin desperately wants to go, he can’t, as Arthur. Half of the information he’s in charge of can’t be stored onto his usual tablet, and he has a meeting with the heads of Parliament this afternoon. So he makes Eggsy to promise to wear his glasses at all times in Kentucky, as well as hand him a Kingsman credit card.

Roxy also wants to come for moral support, but even if Kingsman is less busier in these days, she’s still one of their best agents and has to be at home base in case of emergency. She promises to watch JB and check up on Eggsy’s family, who adores her, but threatens that if Eggsy is going to do something stupid, she better hear about it firsthand.

Eggsy packs in a frenzy, only taking him a few changes of clothes and the basic necessities. He’s pretty sure he’s forgotten some things, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll get Harry, and that’s all that matters.

* * *

_“That’s the last of them.”_

_Eggsy watches Merlin yank out the flash drive, tucking it into his bag. “That’s it, then? Took you forever.”_

_“It’s over thirty years of recordings and documents, Eggsy.”_

_He tries to imagine that—a young Harry, typing on his computer, face intent in his work, but can’t quite form the shape of it in his mind. Harry never told him about his youth, only a little bit of his missions, so Eggsy only knows the man of the present. Merlin, in some ways, is lucky. He knew the past Harry, got to see him change and evolve throughout his life, and has more memories to hold onto than just a few months._

_But those few months Eggsy is grateful to have._

_“I found something else.” Merlin’s voice is a little louder, but not by much. Eggsy turns to see the man beckoning him over, then pointing at the screen. It’s Harry’s email account, in the Drafts tab, titled the day he went to Kentucky. The subject line is Eggsy’s name._

_“You don’t have to read it now,” Merlin says kindly, “but it might help with…closure.”_

_Eggsy nods, slowly. He stares at the first line— **Dear Eggsy** —and it keeps repeating in his mind, like the way a needle skips on one of Mum’s old records. _

_Merlin gently pats Eggsy on the shoulder before standing up to leave. “Take care. Roxy mentioned she was going to drag you out later to catch a movie before the recruit trials for Tristan. Your candidate all packed and ready to go?”_

_“Definitely. Marine man, you know.”_

_“Good.” Merlin nods, then leaves Eggsy alone in the red room, newspaper covers still on the walls._

_He hasn’t confronted this in months. Eggsy knows he’s living in Harry’s house, but treats it like a preserved room closed, waiting for the owner to come unlock the door. He knows the search turned up nothing, and that it was officially stalled for the time being. He knows his eyes are sadder, that his mum keeps looking at him as if he’s a stranger, not believing his hollow smile and tales of being a tailor._

_He shouldn’t read the letter, but he_ should _. Roxy always asks to be paired with him on missions, and his codename still makes his heart twist whenever Merlin addresses him through the glasses. He’s the newest agent, gaining a reputation for light-fingered and light on his feet, for driving a getaway car better than the Kingsman valets, for getting in the first shot and the first punch._

_Reckless, they say, but Eggsy now only feels apprehensive._

_Yet, he can’t stop his eyes from already skipping to the next line._

_It sends a painful thump to his chest, and it only worsens as he continues to read Harry’s last words to him. Eggsy can almost hear Harry’s voice—coming back slowly, but steadily, like waking up in a familiar dream—reading along, so when Eggsy comes to the second-to-last line, he has to push himself away from the screen and tightly press his hand over his mouth._

**_Thank you for bringing some warmth into my life…_ **

* * *

 The cry in his throat is strangled when he wakes up again on a plane.

He leans backward in his chair, shirt soaked though, gasping. His glasses are askew on his face, and Eggsy checks to see if they’re bent, but Merlin designed them well. They’re tougher, now. More bulletproof.

No one says why, of course.

He rubs at his eyes and looks out the window, at the wispy clouds. The weather is beautiful today.

Eggsy remembers where he is. He’s a plane to Kentucky. He’s going to see Harry again.

Sitting up, he takes stock of his body. Eggsy definitely needs to change his shirt and wash his face. He’s also pretty sure the imprints of his glasses are bright red at the bridge of his nose and part of his cheek. His eyelids are sticky from sleep, his spit’s thick in his throat, and the area around his shoulders aches a little from sleeping on the tray attached to the seat in front of him.

His chest also aches, but it’s a different sort than the one plaguing him for years. His heart pounds quickly, like a metal detector’s signal honing in on a treasure buried close beneath the sand.

_Galahad, we are approaching Kentucky soon. Are you prepared to descend?_

He presses the red button on his chair, and turns his head to the direction of the speakers.

“Yes,” Eggsy says. “I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> I watched 'A Single Man' yesterday, and the first scene in this story was inspired by the first few minutes of the film. If you want to watch, I highly recommend it, but bring tissues, warm tea, and someone to comfort you.
> 
> And don't worry, folks. There's going to be a reunion soon.


End file.
